


And the Touching Leads to Sex

by mcgarrygirl78



Series: #1 Crush [4]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he thought the other boy might actually be flirting with him.  Sometimes he tried to flirt back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Touching Leads to Sex

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Rilo Kiley song Portion for Foxes. The crazy thing is I've written so many Criminal Minds fics that I've actually used this title before. It fits here so I'm using it again.

Hotch looked all around the room with drowsy eyes. Directly in front of him, right above the bed, was a _Metropolis_ poster. It wasn’t the only movie poster in the room. There was also Hitchcock’s _Rebecca_ , the 1975 version of _The Stepford Wives_ , _2001_ , _The Shining_ , _Beauty and the Beast_ , and _Head_. 

Smaller posters on the walls, the size of old record sleeves displayed everything from Prince to Crowded House. A movie, long forgotten, still played on the 27” TV screen inside the entertainment center. But Hotch was sprawled on the bed. He was breathless, a little sticky, and blissful.

“Hey…” his voice was raspy when he spoke.

“Don’t.” Anderson held up a hand. “I just want a few minutes of bliss. Don’t tell me that you're totally not gay. Don’t tell me that if I ever tell anyone you'll beat the shit out of me. And I definitely don’t want to hear about how this only happens when you’ve been drinking.”

“I wasn’t going to say any of that.”

“OK. I still want my bliss.”

Hotch nodded and closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to say that he didn’t know how he and Anderson got in the bed and did what they did. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t a stupid boy. He knew when he shook his hand a couple of days before that he wanted to pull Anderson into his arms and plant one on him. It was one of the most uncomfortable feelings he ever had. 

Not because Anderson was a guy. Mostly because feelings didn’t tend to overwhelm Hotch much. He’d spent so many years pressing them down, farther and farther until he hardly had them at all. Of course he did have them and sometimes they would explode. It usually ended in anger and regret. That was not the case tonight.

000

“Hello,” Anderson smiled as he opened the door earlier that evening. “Casual Hotch…I like.”

Hotch smiled as he walked into the house with a box of pepperoni pizza and a six-pack of Miller High Life. Pizza goes best with beer, his mother said when she gave it to him. He promised to keep it in the trunk until he got there and leave it where he took it.

“I thought jeans and a sweater would be best for watching movies.” He said.

“It’s perfect, come in.”

The Anderson house was homey. There were family pictures on the walls and cozy furniture. Mrs. Anderson, who probably went by her other married name now, seemed fond of knick-knacks. Hotch got to see Anderson during his awkward braces phase and his all black, fuck the world phase. There were even a few embarrassing baby pictures.

“No flash photography please.” Anderson said as they walked through the living room, dining room, and into the kitchen. “Security will escort out anyone seen with camera phones.”

“You were a cute baby.” Hotch said.

“I don’t even know what to do with that.”

“A simple thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and took the pizza box from him. It smelled so good and Anderson was hungry. For reasons barely known to him, he worked out when he got home from school. 

There were few things he hated more than exercise. But he wanted to look good when Hotch arrived. It was ridiculous; 1000 sit-ups or pushups couldn’t change his look in a few hours. He was stuck with what he had. “Were you a cute baby?”

“That’s what my mother always tells her friends.” Hotch replied.

“Mothers are the most embarrassing creatures. Well, maybe second to grandmothers. Do you want one slice or two?”

“I’ll take two. I haven’t eaten since lunch this afternoon.”

“You don’t mind if we watch up in my room, do you?” Anderson asked. “That’s where the VCR is but we can find something to watch on DVD if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Why would that make me uncomfortable?” Hotch asked, taking the plate Anderson handed him. “Is that where you keep the torture devices?”

“No, I have a small cubby hole in the basement. You don’t get to see that until your third visit. At that time you'll be fully initiated.”

Hotch laughed as they walked up the back stairs. He sat down at Anderson’s desk while Anderson sat down on his bed. There was regular chatter as they ate. They talked about classes, holidays, and Anderson admitted that he knew nothing about baseball.

“Except Derek Jeter; I know him. He’s a…”

“He’s a what?” Hotch asked, drinking some of his beer.

“He's um, like the best player in the world.” Anderson finished. And a total hottie. “Or so I hear.”

“He's one of the most well known in modern baseball, and very good, but I wouldn’t say the best.” 

“Who's your all-time favorite player?” Anderson asked. 

“In modern baseball I would probably say Cole Hamels, he plays for the Phillies. I root for Stephen Strasburg though when I'm at home games. And I'm a big fan of Evan Longoria as well. He plays for the Rays.”

“Cool.” 

“You have no idea what I'm talking about.” Hotch smiled.

“But it’s still cool if you like it.”

“Do you like any sports?”

“Um, when the Olympics are on I love diving.” Anderson replied. “Beach volleyball is good. I've been dragged to the occasional high school football game but that was under pure emotional duress. But I don’t want to seem like one of those too cool for it kids…it’s just not my thing. I used to run but I never considered that a sport; I just wanted to get away.”

“What's your thing?”

“If I tell you, do you promise not to laugh?”

“I wouldn’t laugh.” Hotch shook his head. “And you already told me that you dance to Donna Summer records so…”

“Oh yeah.” Anderson smirked. “I'm into serial killers. Not like in the freakish, Trenchcoat Mafia way but I think I want to go into the FBI. I want to study the psychopathy of them. I watch a lot of Investigation Discovery and read a lot of books. I'm into a lot of stuff but that’s a passion.”

“Wow, that’s sounds interesting.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“It does.” Hotch reached out and punched his leg. “I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I don’t have anything I'm passionate about right now so I envy you.”

“We should start the movie…I don’t want to keep you out too late.” Anderson cleared his throat and drank some beer. Talking to Aaron Hotchner about his passions might not be the best idea he ever had. “You haven’t seen any of them so pick one; _Metropolitan, Barcelona_ , or _The Last Days of Disco_.”

“Which is your favorite?” Hotch asked.

“Oh, _Metropolitan_ for sure. But you might want to kick my ass because I know all the lines and sometimes recite them at the same time as the characters.”

“It’s a risk I think I'm willing to take. I've never seen it so I won't know your outburst is coming.”

“True.” Anderson laughed. He got up and put the movie in the VCR. “You can probably see the TV better from here.”

“From the bed?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah.”

“OK.”

He grabbed his pizza and beer before joining Anderson on the bed. Hotch made himself at home, taking one of the pillows and relaxing on it. He’d been looking forward to tonight since they made the plans. He was tired and needed to unwind. Between school, yearbook, baseball practice, and other mounting obligations sometimes he felt like he was drowning. 

He wished he’d met Anderson sooner…he was like a breath of fresh air. Hotch actually laughed with him. He didn’t feel like he had to wear the mask of perfection he wore with everyone else. Sometimes he thought the other boy might actually be flirting with him. Sometimes he tried to flirt back. Hotch had a girlfriend before and had been on his share of dates but it wasn’t as if he really knew when someone was making the moves on him. 

Anderson was sharp. He was witty and his humor often bit. Hotch liked it but that didn’t mean it was something that it wasn’t. There wasn’t a chapter in the Loner Manifesto that covered this. Perhaps that was why it was so hard, even when surrounded by people, not to be a loner.

“Do we turn off the lights?” Hotch asked as the opening credits appeared on screen.

“It’s not that type of movie.” Anderson was resting at the top of the bed trying not to look at Hotch’s ass in his Levis. “But if you’d like a little ambience…”

“Well the overhead light is reflecting on the screen from where I'm laying. I can hardly see.”

“Oh, right, I’ll fix that.” 

Anderson turned on his bedside lamp. Then he got up and walked over to the bedroom door. His hand was on the light switch. He was about to turn it off and only have 60 watts of light between him and Aaron Hotchner. This was a defining moment of his teenage years. So Anderson quickly committed it to memory before flipping it off. He made his way back over to the bed.

“Are you ready for an all new experience?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hotch nodded. “I think I am.”

000

“Is your bliss over yet?” Hotch asked.

“Uh uh…just give me like 10 more minutes.”

Hotch sat up on his elbows and looked at Anderson. He was laying at the top of the bed, eyes closed and mouth slightly opened. He was a bit sweaty but there was a peaceful look on his face. Hotch wanted some of that bliss too. Readjusting himself, he crawled up to the top of the bed and cuddled close. That made Anderson open his eyes.

“You're not helping the bliss be over any sooner you know.” he said.

“We don’t even have to talk right now.” Hotch kissed him. 

He kissed him softly and then with more passion. Anderson wrapped his arms around him; they turned on the mattress so that he was nearly on top of Hotch. Hotch knew he would have to breathe eventually but for the moment there were more important things to do. When Anderson palmed his cock in his boxer briefs, he groaned into his mouth.

“Good groan or bad groan?” Anderson asked, pulling away some.

“Is it ever a bad groan when someone grabs your cock?”

“I can get a little grabby sometimes. I just didn’t want…”

“It’s good.” Hotch put his finger on Anderson’s lips. 

“I can do other good things with my mouth.” 

He didn’t know where his confidence came from but hell, they were lying in bed half naked and kissing now. What was there to be nervous about? Anderson knew he was above average with sex. He’d read enough books and watched enough videos. Aaron Hotchner was about to get his world rocked.

“Yeah.” Hotch nodded.

“You gotta tell me.” Anderson kissed his lips. “Tell me what you want me to do with my mouth.”

Hotch grinned. He pulled Anderson close, whispering in his ear. Anderson moaned when he bit the lobe but that wasn’t the only reason he was moaning. He couldn’t believe this was even happening to him. Anderson wanted to pinch himself but there was no way he wanted to wake up if this was a dream. 

He had more important things to do. The first was to strip Hotch of his boxer briefs. The boy was built like a thoroughbred; all strong lines and sinewy threads. There were surely men more muscular but no one was as perfect. Hotch was also hung like a horse. 

How in the hell did he keep that thing hidden beneath slacks? Anderson was quite surprised the first time he saw it, but not unhappy. He loved cock…the more the merrier. There were things Hotch wanted him to do to his body but Anderson had to admire him first. He had to kiss and touch and tickle and stroke. This was his time and he wanted to take it. 

When Hotch gently pushed his head downward, Anderson smiled thinking about two things. One, teenage boys were so selfish sometimes and it was adorable. Two, this couldn’t be his first time. Who else got to take a victory lap with Aaron Hotchner’s big trophy? There was no need to be jealous of them right now. Anderson was the winner tonight.

Hotch shivered, crying out and grabbing a handful of Anderson’s hair when the teenager deep throated him. His mouth was wide open, his throat going dry; he felt like he’d died and gone to heaven. This wasn’t the first time someone gave him a blow job. He was a student athlete; the admirers were many. Hotch wasn’t the type to use girls, or anyone, to his sexual advantage. But it was hard to say no a million times. Maybe 999,990 times but a million, not really.

“Oh God, don’t stop…uhh…”

Anderson didn’t plan on stopping. He stroked Hotch’s washboard abs, feeling the butterflies beneath his skin. He cupped and gently squeezed his balls, feeling them draw up closer as he neared climax. The idea that Anderson truly brought Hotch pleasure was enough to make him hard all over again. 

He loved the way Hotch said his name. He loved that he gripped his shoulder so hard there would surely be a mark. Hotch sat straight up as he came in a rush. The sound that came from his diaphragm was pleasurable and painful. He grabbed Anderson, crushing his mouth against his own and tasting himself all over Anderson’s lips.

“It’s unfair that I'm naked and you're not.” Hotch mumbled as they kissed.

He didn’t think he’d ever gotten undressed so fast in his life. Not even his first time, when Anderson was just 15, and the thought of getting laid was the equivalent of winning the Nobel Prize. There wasn’t much to throw off; he was only dressed in tighty whiteys and a James band tee shirt. Anderson’s body wasn’t as awesome as Hotch’s but he wasn’t ashamed of it either. He was paler than he’d like and most of his muscle definition was in his legs. 

Anderson was a runner…ran cross country for LBJ in 9th and 10th grade. Dipping deeper into his loner, hipster lifestyle made him give up sports in favor of other endeavors but he didn’t let his body go to hell. Young gay guys didn’t get laid if they weren’t hot. They at least had to be lukewarm. Anderson’s body goal would always be to remain at least lukewarm.

“I'm crazy about you.” Anderson groaned as the two boys grinded against each other. This had been the first act of their passion play nearly an hour ago. Doing it again without clothes was even better. “I know you're probably going to kick my ass or ignore my existence after this but I don’t give a damn, I'm crazy about you.”

“Shh,” Hotch wrapped his leg around him. “Just enjoy the bliss. Tomorrow isn’t tonight…tonight is tonight.”

“Fuck you.” He wasn’t mad when he said it but it came out just the same.

“That’s one way of looking at this.”

“Ugh, shut up.” Anderson kissed him to quiet him. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t getting the last word this time. They didn’t have to talk at all.

***


End file.
